She's a Few Cards Short of a Full Deck
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "And Eventually You'll Come to Me, I Know You Will." Liz Moore wakes up after being branded by Dean Ambrose. Rated T: Language, Mild Violence
1. Chapter 1

The world flashed into view a few times before I finally woke up for good.

The pictures weren't making sense. Strange men in a jostling cabin. A grim-looking woman in bright blue leaning over me. A giant ball of dark red in front of my face.

When I woke up, it began to come together.

The first realization I had was that I was not, in fact, dead like I'd hoped to be. That was a disappointment.

The second realization was that I couldn't move my arms. Unpleasant.

The third realization was that a haggard-looking Paul Heyman was sitting in a chair at the foot of whatever bed I was in. Surprising.

"Where am I?" I managed to croak. He looked up, surprised.

"Thank God, Liz," he exhaled, his shoulders visibly dropping. He pulled out his phone and made a call while I assessed my surroundings.

Gray walls. TV mounted towards the ceiling. Beeps that told me I was hooked up to something or other. I'd made it to a hospital by some miracle.

Paul hung up. "Do you…what do you remember?"

I shook my head, confused. "I remember…Ambrose. He was very displeased with me, as he put it." I glanced down at my stomach and was relieved to see bandages there.

Paul actually looked stricken. "What? What is it?"

He sighed heavily. "Liz, I blame myself. I should have gotten you help. I should have seen the signs. Instead, I forced myself into thinking that you were strong enough to endure after what you'd gone through." He shook his head. "It was a mistake. It was a mistake that almost cost you your life."

I tried to bring my hand up to scratch my nose, and noted that my hands were restrained to the bed. I looked at Paul, confused. "Why…?"

"So you don't hurt yourself again."

"What are you talking about? I didn't hurt myself. Ambrose hurt me. Chain _him_ up to some bed somewhere."

He shook his head. "Liz, Ambrose was in Cincinnati. His girlfriend backed his story up. There's no footage of him at your hotel. This…this was something that you did."

"What? Why the fuck would I carve that maniac's name into my stomach?" I was starting to get confused and angry.

"The doctors say it's a form of post-traumatic stress disorder," Paul explained calmly, holding his hands out palm down and motioning for me to lower my voice. "You're suffering from delusions."

I sat a moment, stunned. That's when Seth and Roman burst into the room. Both looked relieved to see me, and Seth came and wrapped his arms around me. "Thank God," he murmured in my ear. "We were so fucking worried."

I managed to smile at him. "I'm all right," I said cautiously. "Listen, can you get a nurse? I don't want to be restrained like this now that I'm awake."

"Yeah," Seth said, seeming distracted. After a brief consultation with Paul, he stepped out into the hallway.

"The doctors are recommending intensive inpatient therapy. We've looked into a few places, and we're going to get you the best help that's available," Paul assured me. "And, of course, you'll have your job waiting for you when you get back."

I glanced over at Roman. I wanted so badly to ask what the consequences were for Ambrose. That, and when the fuck did he get a girlfriend? What kind of bizzaro world was I living in?

Seth interrupted these thoughts by coming back in with a nurse. She asked a few questions and finally unfastened my restraints.

I engaged in the most satisfying nose itch of all-time.


	2. Chapter 2

As the days went by, I began to piece together the pertinent information.

I'd been found in my hotel room by a maid, barely breathing and bleeding profusely. There was a knife on the floor beside the bed that had my fingerprints all over it. The hotel called an ambulance and I was rushed to the hospital. They saved my life – closing up the wounds and giving me blood transfusions and antibiotics.

I had been out for three days. Apparently I woke up from time-to-time, but I don't remember any of that in any significant way.

The restraints had been put on when Ambrose came to visit. I'd gotten violent, been tied down and sedated, and he hadn't been back since.

The police did a thorough investigation – checking hotel security footage, interviewing all of the pertinent witnesses, the whole nine – and concluded that I had engaged in self-harm. The hospital took it a step further and diagnosed me with delusions associated with post-traumatic stress disorder – just like Paul had told me.

"Do you really believe that I did this?" I asked Seth one day when it was just he, Roman and I.

Seth glanced at Roman. I could tell they had discussed this. "I'm not sure what to believe, Liz. Dean's a sick guy, but this is above and beyond his usual behavior. And I know how badly you were rattled by him."

I sat chewing on my lip for a minute, thinking. Roman surprised me by speaking up.

"Oh hell, Liz. We're not supposed to say it – Seth and I agreed we wouldn't – but we both believe you."

Seth shot him a look of pure frustration. "Dude, seriously? The doctors said it could set back her recovery."

My shoulders slumped out of pure relief, and I let my head fall back on to my pillow. "Thank God. I thought I was actually insane."

"You _are_ insane," Seth said roughly, staring into my eyes. "The faster you admit that, _the faster you'll get out of here_." He looked at me imploringly, and I nodded in understanding.

"I am cuckoo for cocoa puffs," I managed to say with a straight face. Seth shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"I didn't want to ask because it would feed into the whole me being nuts thing, but what in the blue fuck was Paul talking about – Ambrose's _girlfriend_?"

Roman rolled his eyes. "This chick…man, Liz. Wait until you see her. She's the type of girl you'd expect Ambrose to be with. They apparently hooked up shortly after he left Connecticut from visiting you."

"So he admitted to that," I said flatly.

Seth fielded this one. "He did, after the hospital asked him about the bruises on your back. You'd said that he'd done that, too. They weren't sure how you could have done it yourself, so they asked him if he knew anything about it. That's what they were calling the trigger for your event. Dean swore up and down it was consensual."

"It wasn't."

"We figured."

I paused, wondering how to phrase my next question. "Do you think…now that he has someone, that he'll leave me alone?"

Seth and Roman shared another look, and I could tell that they had discussed this as well.

"We're not sure," Roman answered. "He swears up and down that he's really into this girl, but he still asks about you with decent frequency. He says he feels guilty."

"He doesn't feel guilt," I said bitterly. "I'll need to be ready for him, then."

Seth reached out and touched my hand. "Worry about getting through your therapy first, all right? Worry about getting better and getting out."


	3. Chapter 3

I was medically stable after another week, and they transferred me to an inpatient mental health facility back home in Connecticut. The idea was that I'd be able to continue outpatient treatment once I was released home.

I hated it there.

Don't get me wrong – it wasn't like I was mistreated or anything. The place itself was actually very nice, and I liked my doctor. We just had fundamentally different beliefs.

For example, he believed that I was insane. I believed that I was not. It made our relationship complicated from the start.

We struggled against each other for weeks with that notion. The doc had made me relive every moment with Ambrose, up to the incident in my hotel. That wasn't Ambrose, according to him. We even discussed Sheamus's pursuit of a relationship, my reluctance, and my sleeping with Wade.

"Do you think," the doctor had asked, leaning back in his chair and studying me over the top of his glasses, "that the guilt you felt about having such a casual encounter with another man after you had rejected another might have triggered a delusion?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Did you feel the need to be punished after you sent Sheamus away?"

"No. Ambrose felt the need to punish me."

He shook his head. "Elizabeth, Dean Ambrose wasn't in your hotel. He was in his own home thousands of miles away. You need to stop operating under that delusion. You were in a state of psychosocial distress, and your mind put him there to compensate for those feelings that you couldn't comprehend at that moment."

"Why would I carve his name into my own stomach, then? Why not just slit my throat and be done with it?"

"You've said yourself that you don't want to die. This was your way of trying to get yourself help. It worked." He paused to let that sink in. "As far as carving Mr. Ambrose's name, it's quite common for those with PTSD to relive the incidents that triggered the condition in the first place. Your delusion that he was there and wanted to punish you led you to act as you thought he would act in this situation."

I paused for a few long moments. "I don't buy it."

I was sent back to my room.

Seth called me that night to ask how therapy was going. I explained that it wasn't going well.

"You need to tell them what they want to hear, Liz. Otherwise you'll be there for the rest of your life."

I actually got angry with him. I needed to tell the truth. I needed something to happen to Ambrose. He couldn't go unpunished. I hung up on Seth. I didn't want to hear it any more.

I stayed up for a long time that night, mulling everything over. Finally, the time came for my daily session.

"All right, doc," I said, sliding into the chair. "I've been up all night thinking about this. I've been up all night trying to remember." I took a deep breath, clasping my hands tightly. "I've finally come to the conclusion that Dean Ambrose wasn't in my hotel room. I hurt myself, and I need help to understand why."

The doctor nodded, pleased. "I'm very proud of you for taking this first step, Elizabeth. Now the real work can begin."


	4. Chapter 4

I said all the right things. I very slowly made all the right breakthroughs. I knew the truth in my heart, but these people didn't want the truth. After another month, I was given notice that my release papers would be signed in two weeks.

It had worked.

I went into my second-to-last session, ready to work through some more of my false delusions. Therapy had helped in a lot of ways, but I felt it would have been more effective if I was going for what was actually wrong with me rather than that pesky diagnosis of 'delusional.'

I stepped into the doc's office, relieved that it would be for one of my last visits, and stopped short. Ambrose was sitting in a chair across from the doc, legs crossed casually and his hands laced together over the knee.

"What's he doing here?" I spit, unable to help myself.

"You've made such great progress, Elizabeth. We need to see how you're going to react to Mr. Ambrose."

He gave a small, contrite smile. "Hi, Liz."

I slowly sunk into a chair placed across from him. I forced my tongue to move. "Dean," I replied, attempting politeness and a genial nod. It was tough when you wanted to rip the throat out of the person you were speaking to.

"You look fantastic," he said. "I'm really glad that you're still here."

"Thank you."

We went through a session, and by some miracle I managed to keep my head straight. I was so angry that I could barely function, but my mouth and mind went on auto-pilot and saved my ass.

"I can't wait for you to meet her," Ambrose was saying, a big smile on his face. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

I managed to smile as well, and I prayed it looked genuine. "I've heard a bit about her from Seth and Roman. I'm just so glad that you're happy, Dean. You truly deserve happiness."

He reached over and covered my hand with his. "We both do, Liz. We both do. I'm glad you're getting the help you need to get there."

I nodded. "Me too."

"Mr. Ambrose," the doctor broke in, "I can't thank you enough for being here. I'd like to discuss everything a bit further with Elizabeth, but let me show you out."

Ambrose stood. "Is it all right if I hug you?" He asked me. I could see the doc's eyes focused intently on us, so I smiled and stood and opened my arms as if I wanted nothing less.

He stepped into them and wrapped his arms around me tightly, pressing his nose into my hair. He inhaled deeply and I felt more than heard a contented sigh escape his lips.

"I'll see you soon, Lizzy," he said in my ear, and I could feel him smiling.

A bolt of terror ran through me. I met his eyes as he pulled away, and I could see the hunger in them.

Nothing had changed. I'd had an admittedly naïve hope that this other woman had calmed him, had taken the focus off of me. I knew then that wasn't the case. He was still the same Dean Ambrose, and I was still in very real danger.


	5. Chapter 5

After another three weeks of outpatient therapy, I was cleared to return to work. In my absence, Paul had upped his timetable and had ended the brand split. I was coming back onboard as his assistant.

The boys didn't know how to handle me at first. It was fine by me – I'd had enough interaction with most of them to last me a lifetime. I was still angry, perhaps irrationally, about the whole situation and I wanted nothing to do with these men.

Wade was one of the first ones to approach me on the first Monday I was back, with a gentle hug and a warm word on his lips. I finally felt at ease in his arms, and I managed to smile into his chest. He lightly kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad you're back and that you're feeling better."

"Thanks, Wade," I replied genuinely. "I'm glad to be back."

A hand clapped on my back and I turned to see Sheamus standing behind us. "Welcome back, Lizzy," he said, grinning and opening his arms. I turned and gave him a quick hug as well, but he held on to me and wouldn't let me go right away.

"We were all very worried."

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"Thank God for that. What on earth were you thinking?"

"She had a mental break, you moron," Wade broke in, disgusted. "You are a tactless piece of shit."

"I don't recall asking you, Barrett."

I pulled away from Sheamus. "No need to get up in arms, guys. I'm fine. Thank you both for welcoming me back; I truly appreciate it."

I then went to book it out of there. I was done with this nonsense between everyone. I stopped short when I saw Ambrose staring at the three of us with interest, the expression on his face unreadable as he slowly wiped his hand over his mouth.

I turned back around and went in the opposite direction, not giving a care in the world to how it looked. I had every reason to avoid Ambrose, and most people knew that. Even if they didn't, I was done worrying about what people thought. It had led to me hiding things that I should have put out in the open in the first place – if I had opened up, people might know how twisted Ambrose was and might have believed me when I said that I hadn't suffered a psychotic delusion.

It was going to be a hard habit to break, but I knew it had to be done.

I walked by Seth and Roman, absent-mindedly slapping each of them five on my way to Paul's office. They hadn't stopped their association with Dean entirely – they were, after all, part of one of our more dominant groups. Breaking that apart would have been counterintuitive. But they had stopped spending as much time with him outside of work. To his face, they attributed that to wanting him to have privacy with his new girlfriend.

Becky. Oh, was Becky ever a treat. I'd been a little surprised at the short, curvy Goth girl when I'd first seen her. She had gorgeous, long, pin-straight black hair that I was exceedingly envious of; perfect, pale skin with sharply contrasting black-lipsticked lips, and soulful brown eyes that seemed out of place in the rest of the picture. She was also exceptionally surly, not even returning my (admittedly incredibly fake) smile of introduction – instead, she tried to, as Wade Barrett had once said, stare an aneurysm into my head. So she knew my history with her boyfriend then. How lovely. Ambrose also hung all over her whenever I was around the two of them. The whole thing was, to say the least, annoying.

I stepped into Paul's office to collect the schedule for tonight. I needed to assign refs and timeslots. I didn't mind it, honestly – it was kind of mindless and easy to become absorbed by. I could forget everything else when I was focused on these tasks.

I wasn't paying attention until I saw two strangers in there, and I realized I'd walked in on a meeting. An important one, judging by the anger creeping on to Paul's face.

"Oh! I'm sorry," I said, hastily, trying to make my exit.

"Liz," Paul said, stopping me dead in my tracks, "it's all right. These are the gentlemen from the new video game studio we're thinking about going with – 787 Studios. Gentlemen, this is my assistant manager, Elizabeth Moore."

"Hello," I said politely, nodding in their direction. One must have been the game designer – a messy-haired guy with brown eyes, dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and bright red converse sneakers – and the other I guessed was some kind of executive – full suit with jacket and tie. He had short, immaculate dark auburn hair and pale green eyes.

It was the man in the suit who stood and offered me his hand. "David Crowley," he said as I reached to shake it. He had the kind of voice – deep, rich, and British-accented – that could talk your panties off just by reading the lunch menu aloud.

The other gentleman merely raised his hand in greeting. "Rick Durrett."

"David, Rick," I said, smiling widely. "A pleasure to meet both of you. I'm so sorry for intruding." I turned towards Paul. "I just wanted to get the schedule to start making assignments for tonight."

Paul shuffled through a few papers and handed them to me. "Come see me when you're done. David and Rick are going to stay for the show, and I'd like you to show them to their box and sit with them to answer any questions."

I turned back towards them and smiled, even though I already hated the task. "It would be my pleasure. I'll see you both later this evening."

'Whether I'd like to or not,' I added mentally.


	6. Chapter 6

I finished the schedule in record time, even sitting among the other guys in catering. Most of them gave me a wide berth. A few said hello, and I replied as normally as I could. It would take some time to not be the focus of gossip, and behaving rationally and socially-appropriately would really help shorten that length of time.

Finally, unable to avoid it any longer, I trudged back to Paul's office. I handed him the schedule and, as the show was about to start, led David and Rick to the box Paul had set aside for them. I made sure they were settled and excused myself for a few moments.

Paul had trailed us to catch a private word with me, and he caught it as I stepped out of the box.

"This is a big deal for us," he said in a low, fast voice. "We really want these guys to do our games. They're young, they're upcoming, and it'll be a great partnership. Do you feel like you're up for this?"

I nodded. "Absolutely. It's just answering questions about the WWE. I've been a fan all my life, and I've worked backstage and in corporate. I'm probably your best bet, Paul."

He grinned. "There's the Liz I know," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'll send the waitress in shortly for drink service. Enjoy the show."

And off he ran, distracted. I could tell his mind was working overtime, and I forced myself to admit that it would probably be one of our best shows of the year. Paul was many things, but high on that list was a great promoter and a managing genius. I nearly-gagged thinking of him in those terms, but it was the truth. When he wanted to be on, nobody could stop us.

I took a deep breath, squared myself, and stepped back into the box. Showtime was about to begin – in more ways than one.

Rick seemed bored, playing on his phone. David was standing at the railing of the box, staring down at the crowd below.

"You certainly have some fervent fans," he said, turning towards me and smiling.

I smiled back as naturally as possible. "We do," I agreed. "Our fans are some of the most loyal and rabid people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Great market for a game, then," he said, glancing at Rick. Rick glanced up before going back to his phone. Good God. I'd known many techy nerds before, but none as bad as this guy.

"I wouldn't know too much about that," I said. "Marketing isn't really my area – but I can tell you we've consistently had strong sales of pretty much all of our merchandise."

David held up his hand, smiling gently. "I'm sorry, Liz. I wasn't trying to quiz you. We really are just here to see the show. No sales pitch required."

I made a show of letting my shoulders drop. "Thank goodness. It's definitely not my strong suit." I paused, turning towards Rick. "787 Studios…did you guys develop _Abyss_?"

Rick snorted. "Do your research?"

"Only in that I've played it. I'm at level fifty-eight. I'm stuck on the chimaera on the third reef."

He glanced up at me, curious. "What platform do you play on?"

"Generally I'm a PC gamer, but I happened to grab a copy of this one for my PS3. When are you guys going to release DLC for it?"

"On PS3?" He asked, dubious.

"So you're telling me 2015," I laughed. "I got it."

He leaned forward. "You _do_ know this stuff, don't you? You're not just spitting out terminology you looked up on Wikipedia."

I shook my head. "Nope. This is an actual conversation, not a scripted one."

He nodded. "What do you think of the game otherwise?"

I hesitated, debating on whether or not I should tell the truth. "Well," I said slowly, "the controls are a little clunky and the premise is, honestly, a little stupid – a giant squid threatening the rest of sea life? But," I rushed on quickly, "the graphics and weapons systems are pretty badass. I mean, a shark cannon? That is awesome."

Rick laughed. "The shark cannon was one of my favorites," he admitted. "And you're right…it was a pretty dumb story. But it was one of our first, and I'm still proud of it." He looked back at his phone, seeming a bit less stand-offish.

I glanced back at David, who was smiling widely. He surreptitiously gave me a thumbs-up. Well look at that – my first night back, and I was doing all right.


	7. Chapter 7

Both men seemed to enjoy the show. David asked quite a few questions, mostly about who the guys were and why they did certain things – why Dolph Ziggler (he called him 'spaghetti hair') had Big E Langston (known as 'that giant man') with him, and why they both seemed to dislike that nice man in jorts, for example.

"The relationships are very complex," he observed, fascinated.

The most interesting part of the night came when The Shield entered the arena. We had a front row seat for their entrance – Roman entered to our right, Seth and Ambrose to our left. David watched all of them, enthralled. Even Rick looked up from his phone.

Roman gave us a lingering stare, doing his best to look terrifying. When I knew the cameras weren't on him, I stuck my tongue out. He grinned. Seth looked at us all curiously, his eyes narrowed. I gave him the same treatment, and he did his best to keep from laughing.

Ambrose hung back. I tried very hard to ignore him.

"That man is staring at you," David said, sounding just a little nervous.

I laughed, trying not to sound as on-edge as I felt. "That's just Dean Ambrose. He's a little…demented," I said slowly.

He must have heard me. He smiled in our direction. "Hello, Lizzy," he yelled. I knew the cameras were on us. It was a compelling story that had an abrupt end – nobody had ever fully explained where I'd gone. Paul felt, and I was grateful to agree, that the WWE Universe didn't need to know everything. People would be interested in this interaction.

I nodded curtly in his direction. He stood for a moment longer before blowing me a kiss and quickly working to catch up to Seth.

"Former boyfriend?" Rick asked.

"Complicated history," I replied with a tight smile. They thankfully both let it go at that.

The rest of the show went well, and before long I was escorting the men back to Paul's office as the arena emptied.

Both of them shook hands with Paul, and David in particular raved about what an enjoyable evening they'd had.

"We'll be in touch to discuss the particulars of a contract," he promised, pulling a card out of his pocket and handing one to Paul. After a moment, he handed one to me as well.

Rick still seemed slightly disinterested in the whole process, but he'd warmed considerably since first arriving. I took it as a victory. "Liz," he said with a grin as he was going to leave, "I promise I'll get to work on that DLC."

I laughed. "I'm holding you to that," I said, shaking his hand.

They left. Paul was quiet for a solid minute, making sure they were out of earshot.

When they were, he grabbed me by the shoulders. "We _did it_, Liz!" He laughed joyfully. "We actually did it. Holy shit. Vince is going to flip his shit. You were magnificent!" He grabbed me and kissed my cheek.

"This calls for a drink. Get the boys together. We're going out. First round is on me," he said happily, beaming.

"We heard that," Seth said from the doorway. "Who the hell were those guys, Lizzy?"

"Only the designer and an executive from 787 Studios."

His brow crinkled. "They did that stupid squid game with the kickass shark cannon, right?"

I nodded. "They did indeed. And, after tonight, they will shortly be taking over production of the WWE games. Although, sadly, we won't get a shark cannon."

Seth snapped his fingers, disappointed. "I was hoping that would be one of my finishers."

"You already do all kinds of cool stuff in the ring," I pouted. "It was going to be _my_ finisher."

He laughed. "You're going to be a wrestler now instead of an assistant GM?"

"I wanted a finisher as an assistant GM. Some guy mouths off about his time slot, I shoot him with a shark cannon."

Paul stared at us as if we were speaking ancient Egyptian. "I don't know what to do when you two talk nerdy," he admitted. "All I know is that I'm thirsty as hell and ready to celebrate. Let's get out of here."


	8. Chapter 8

I was sorely disappointed when Ambrose tagged along with Paul, Roman, Punk and I.

In truth, I was disappointed about having to spend an evening with Punk as well. The man could be quite insufferable. I managed by continuing to talk video games with Rollins, watching with interest out of the corner of my eye as Dean's face grew darker and darker the more animated we became.

"So do you think they'll do all right with our franchise?" Seth finally asked me as he brought me back another beer.

I thought it over for a few minutes. "Rick seemed pretty honest about where he's fallen down creatively in the past. I think if they work on smoothing out the controls and keep the graphics pretty much the same, we're going to have a hell of a game on our hands."

Seth nodded. "I think it's a fair assessment. What was the other guy doing here? He seemed a lot more interested in everything."

Paul jumped in. "David Crowley – he's the attorney for 787."

"Oh!" I said. "I thought he was a corporate bigwig. I didn't realize he was their attorney."

"Rick pretty much _is_ their corporate piece," Heyman explained. "They're still very new. I get the impression he relies on David for quite a bit."

"That's a good thing. David's definitely got the better people skills of the two of them."

"He certainly did seem to be skilled in dealing with you," Dean said slowly, staring at me over his beer. I raised my eyebrow and elected to ignore him, but the atmosphere at the table became incredibly uncomfortable.

"Pool!" Roman said nervously, pointing over to the table. "Who wants to play?"

"I am going to kick your ass," I said quickly, standing up. "Let's do this!"

Seth stood as well. "I'm going to keep you both honest."

The three of us took our beers and wandered over towards the table. I put my arm around Roman's waist – which was about level with my chest – and squeezed. "Thank you for that."

He patted my head affectionately.

We got a game started while Ambrose looked on from the high-top across the room. Punk and Heyman were deep in conversation about something, as they often were. The two of them were very much in their own world at times.

Things eventually calmed down to the point where we considered going back to the table after the second game, where Seth and Roman battled it out. I'd lost to Roman pretty handily, and Seth had called the next match with the winner early on.

Their game was much closer than mine and Roman's had been. I was watching intently while Seth worked on sinking his second-to-last ball when a hand wrapped around my waist. Inwardly groaning, I turned expecting to see Ambrose.

Instead, I groaned internally as I saw Sheamus standing there. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, grinning at me.

Seth paused and glanced up, staring at Sheamus with an eyebrow raised. Roman rested on his cue, watching the two of us closely.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Sheamus asked, making a valiant effort to ignore both men.

I smiled. "Thanks, but I'm actually just going to finish this last one here. Early morning to head back home," I explained.

"Oh come on. One drink, Liz. Let me welcome you back."

"She told you no," a voice said behind us. Now we were in for some shit.

Sheamus stepped away and turned to look back at Ambrose, who regarded him coolly in return. "I don't recall asking _you_ if Liz wanted a drink. I asked _Liz_ if she wanted a drink."

"And Liz told you no, you thick-headed Irish motherfucker."

"I don't think you speak for her."

"Guys," I broke in. "Let's not do this, ok?"

Sheamus laughed. "You think I'm scared of him or these other goons? I'll take all three of you and I'll still take Lizzy home at the end of the night."

I turned to look at him. "The hell you will," I said angrily. "These guys…two of these guys are my friends. Don't speak to them like that."

"You said if circumstances changed, you'd consider something. Your circumstances have changed," he said, stepping towards me and lightly putting his hands on my shoulders. "Come on, Liz. You want some woman to make me happy someday. I want it to be you."

Ambrose moved forward and angrily shoved his hands off of me. "Don't touch her," he spat. "Don't you dare touch her like that."

Seth and Roman stepped up behind me, and Sheamus seemed to think better of it.

"Fine," he said, shrugging. "I don't need a crazy bitch like you, anyway. You're damaged goods, sweetheart. You just lost out on the best thing that could have ever happened to you."

It was Roman who lost his temper first.

He leveled Sheamus with one punch.

"Don't you talk to my friend like that," he growled as he stood over his kneeling form. I could see the blood coming from Sheamus' nose.

"All right," I said quietly, putting my hands on Roman's chest and pushing him back. "That's enough." I turned back towards Sheamus. "You might want to get out of here before I can't stop them any longer."

He glared up at me and Ambrose stepped forward. "Listen to her," he said slowly, "or I will make you wish you were never born."

I actually held my breath for a few minutes, expecting a brawl to break out at any moment. But Sheamus backed off, hands in the air. I finally let out a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. The bar suddenly seemed to fill back up with noise – I hadn't noticed that it had gone quiet for a short while during our altercation.

"Thanks, guys," I said in a low voice. "Hopefully that's the end of that." I knew then that our night was over.

"I'm going to go get a cab back to the hotel," I said, smiling. "I've had enough fun for one night."

Seth glanced at Roman. "Finish our game?"

Ro grinned. "Hell yes. I'm pumped up now."

I laughed, feeling some of the tension bleed out of me. "All right guys. Try to stay out of trouble, all right?"

I began to walk away, hesitating long enough to nod in Ambrose's direction. "Thanks," I said simply before continuing towards the door. I waved at Punk and Paul before stepping out into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Sheamus was long gone when I got outside, and I found myself thankful – I'd had enough drama for one night. I waited a few minutes for a cab, but at this time of night the street was mostly deserted. It would probably be a long wait. I was ok with it – gave me a few minutes of peace to try to calm down before I tried to sleep.

"No cab yet?" A voice said behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin and turned to see Ambrose lighting up a cigarette.

"Not yet," I said, turning back towards the street.

"Hotel's only a few blocks. Let me walk you back."

I hesitated. "I can wait for the cab."

"Come on, Liz. I know you're avoiding me. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. I understand."

I turned to look at him. "I don't know how you did it, Dean," I said slowly. "I don't know how you convinced everyone that I was the unstable party in this little relationship. But I know the truth, and you know the truth."

He stepped towards me, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Prove it," he said simply, reaching out to lightly pull on a strand of hair. "Give definitive proof to your doctors, or to the police." He paused. "If you had any, you would have done it by now."

"I know the truth," I insisted. "And that's enough for me."

He grinned. "It's not going to save your skin, baby." He glanced down at my stomach and lightly rested his hand on my shirt over the scars. "The amount of it you have left, anyway." He paused. "How did that heal up? I never saw the end result."

I found myself being shoved towards the side of the building, into a darkened alley. Ambrose tugged my shirt up and admired the scars on my stomach in the limited light, his fingers lightly tracing over the letters.

"Perfect," he said simply. "Let's see Mr. Barrett try to kiss away the hurt associated with this one if you try to fuck him again."

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. He glanced up at me. "Did you think I didn't know who it was?" His face contorted into an expression of disbelieving disappointment. "I'd think you'd know me better by now." He paused. "You seemed to enjoy being with him much more than you did with me. Why is that?"

It took me a minute to find my voice. "Probably because I actually decided to be with him. I never wanted you."

He smiled, almost nostalgically. "You did that first night," he reminded me. "If only I'd known then that I wanted you just as badly, we might not be in this mess."

I was quiet for a few moments. "Why don't you go back to the hotel and see Becky?" I suggested.

He laughed. "Are you jealous?"

"No," I said truthfully. "I want you to stop thinking about me. She's my best bet."

"She'll never be you," he said, leaning towards me so that his lips were nearly touching mine. "But she'll do, for now."

Before I could ask what he was talking about, he kissed me. He pulled away briefly before pinning my hands to the brick wall and shoving his knee in between mine to try and push my legs apart. As I opened my mouth to scream, he pressed his mouth against mine again, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I bit him, hard, entirely out of instinct. He let go of my hands and I ran out of the alley, pulling my shirt down.

By some miracle, a cab was just pulling up and I waved it down frantically.

Ambrose stood in the shadows of the alley, the orange tip of cigarette glowing. He waved as we pulled away.

I rested my head against the seat of the cab, my heart racing.

I'd never get to sleep tonight.


	10. Sequel

Thanks, once again, for reading/reviewing/PMing and all manner of appreciation thrown my way. The next installment is up under the title "I Can See the Light, but the Darkness is Calling." I hope you enjoy!


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